


Happy Birthday!

by a_nonny_moose



Series: My AU [33]
Category: Markiplier Egos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-29
Updated: 2017-06-29
Packaged: 2018-11-20 18:21:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11340840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_nonny_moose/pseuds/a_nonny_moose
Summary: A fic for Mark's birthday, some feel-goods.





	Happy Birthday!

Mark stayed in the office until midnight, recording the very second he turned 28 with “My longest hello everybody ever.” The morning found him, crashed on the couch, Chica on the floor nearby.

Something else found him, too.

He was awoken by quiet shuffling and light slanting through the blinds, over his eyes. Probably Amy, his tired brain thought. .Five more minutes.

The shuffling, now accompanied by whispers, grew closer. With a groan, he threw an arm over his head. “’S my birthday,” he mumbled, eyes still closed. “Lemme sleep.”

A quiet clang sounded, but before he could register it–

“RISE AND SHINE, BIRTHDAY BOY!”

Mark promptly fell off the couch to land face first on the floor. Chica’s tail was wagging violently in his face. He scrambled to his feet, looking around.

Wilford stood in front of him, beaming, his usual outfit completed by a party hat and his usual knife replaced by a megaphone. Bim and Dr. Iplier stood just behind him, equally festive, holding a banner between them. The Host hovered next to the four Googles, looking awkward. Chica trotted over to them, curiously sniffing at the Host’s hand. 

“Will, why?”

“It’s your birthday, Mark!” Bim was beaming, barely restraining himself. He looked to Will for a nod of confirmation. 

Dr. Iplier rolled his eyes, then began conducting with his free hand. “Three, two, one…”

The Googles began to play a four-part harmony of “Happy Birthday” as Bim, Dr. Iplier, and Wilford (through his megaphone), sang along, out of key. Chica and the Host moved to cover their ears. Mark rubbed the sleep out of his eyes.

“…birthday toooooooooo yooooooooou!” They finished. Mark clapped enthusiastically, laughing. 

“Thank you guys, I think,” he said, running a hand through his bed head. “Now, I really have to–”

“No!” 

“O-okay.” Mark threw his hands up, eyes wide. All of the Egos were suddenly fixing him in a mock glare.

“We have a party planned,” Bim laughed, darting forwards to grab Mark’s hand. Dr. Iplier shook his head, hiding a smile, as he rolled up the banner. Bim pulled Mark into the office’s kitchen, Wilford and the Googles trailing behind.

Mark entered the kitchen, his jaw dropping. Wilford saw his face and cheered. 

“We cooked!”

“More accurately, we cooked,” Google_B said, gesturing to his green, red, and yellow counterparts. Oliver surreptitiously brushed a bit of flour from his shirt.

The walls, floor, and countertops of the usually neat kitchen were covered in splatters of food, some of undescribable color– Mark would rather not know what half of them were. However, on the table was a smorgasbord of food that looked absolutely delectable; his mouth watered at the sight.

“SURPRI–”

From the front door came clattering and banging, and Mark, snapping his mouth shut, dashed to the hallway to look.

Ethan, Kathryn, Tyler and Amy stood in the doorway, limply holding a cake and balloons, staring at Dr. Iplier and the Host, holding an identical cake and balloons.

Mark heard Bim snort behind him.

“Well,” Wilford began, “this is, ah, quite–”

Mark started laughing, doubling over, and the whole room turned to look at him in concern. Wheezing, he wiped his eyes.

“This is– this is–” He stopped, laughing again. 

Tyler made eye contact with Google_G over Mark’s head. Google_G shrugged.

Wilford, the gesture not lost on him, snapped his suspenders and held up his megaphone again. Over Mark’s laughter, he called, “Anyone want cake?”

When they’d finally settled down after eating, Mark thanking the Egos over and over for the food, Wilford rose and tapped his spoon against his glass.

Clink-clink– crash.

Wilford looked at the shattered glass in confusion. Oliver, who was closest, reached over with a napkin to collect the glass, sighing. 

“This is what happens when you take away my megaphone,” Wilford said, remorseless. He clapped his hands together, clearing the plates of food off the table, along with the glass that Oliver was steadily picking up. Ignoring Oliver’s glare, Wilford continued, “Now! Now, friends, we are gathered here to celebrate the one and only, powerful and kind, magnanimous and–”

“Get to the point, Will,” Mark said, blushing a little. Ethan punched him in the arm.

Google_B stood. “What Warfstache means to say is that–”

The other Egos began to jump up, talking over one another. In the time it took Tyler to get their attention and the Host to narrate them all back into sitting down, Bim and Google_R had gotten into an argument.

Amid the robot’s curt words and Bim’s passionate tone (not to mention Tyler shouting over both of them), Dark walked into the room.

The hair on the back of Mark’s neck stood up, and he whipped around. “Dark.”

“Hello.” He was in his usual suit, looking with disinterest around the destroyed kitchen. The room fell silent.

Mark felt a powerful urge to order Dark out of the building– It was a day for celebration, not walking on eggshells around a demon. Amy’s hand on his stopped him. Remembering the sleepover, and forcing a smile, Mark stood and turned to face Dark properly. “Uh, hello. W-would you like to join us?”

Dark’s eyes went wide, and Mark could feel the room’s eyes on him. Of all things, they hadn’t expected him to invite Dark in. Mark could feel Kathryn’s glare on his back, but he ignored it.

“In fact, I would.” Dark smiled, his shoes clicking on the floor as he walked over. Wordlessly, Wilford drew a chair out of thin air and slotted it into the table between Oliver and Bim. Dark and Mark locked eyes as they sat down, Dark smoothing his tie, Mark reaching for Amy’s hand.

“You were saying, Will?” Tyler’s voice was louder than usual, and Wilford, still standing, jumped a little.

“Y-yes, of course.” Wilford took a moment to collect himself, breathing deeply, but immediately plastered a smile on his face. “All of that aside,” he said, sneaking a glare at Google_R and Bim, “it is time to celebrate. So–”

Wilford clapped his hands once, and the two cakes appeared on the table, fourteen candles on each. Another clap, and the candles were lit.

“Lean in close and blow them out, Markimoo!” 

“The Host would like to warn–”

Wilford hurriedly hushed the Host, who raised an eyebrow in amusement. Mark, who hadn’t heard, leaned into to the cake closest to him to blow out the candles.

“Make a wish,” Amy whispered.

Mark paused, looking around the table. The Googles were watching, a little disinterested. Google_G had even been coaxed into wearing a party hat. Bim had his phone out, recording everything with a grin. Dr. Iplier and the Host sat back, forks at the ready, amused. Wilford– Mark’s eyes widened– was strapping a brightly-colored party hat to Dark’s head. Dark, surprisingly enough, looked calm; bored, even. 

Mark stifled a giggle at Dark’s hat, now secured on top of his head. Ethan and Kathryn didn’t afford Dark the courtesy and burst out laughing, warranting a scowl in their direction. Tyler smothered a smile, looking at Mark, waiting for the candles to go out. He felt Amy squeeze his hand, prompting. 

“I don’t really have a wish,” Mark whispered. “Everything is perfect.”

He closed his eyes to blow out the candles. Wilford, in a pink blur, was behind him.

Thunk.

Mark lifted his head, blinking frosting out of his eyes as Wilford howled with laughter. Mark looked, bewildered, to Amy, for support, only to find her highfiving Will and laughing along with him.

Somehow, the Googles, then Tyler, then the Host and Doctor began to laugh. Arms crossed over his chest, even Dark chuckled at the sight of Mark’s face covered in icing, the words “Happy Birthday Mark” mirrored in frosting on his forehead.

Mark shook his head with a smile, sending frosting flying across the table. Yeah. Everything was perfect.


End file.
